


of crossing

by beamkatanachronicles



Category: The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Established Relationship, Fade to Black, First Time, Morning Sex, Nonbinary Character, Other, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-23 12:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beamkatanachronicles/pseuds/beamkatanachronicles
Summary: Their hand slides down Genly's shoulder and upper arm, coming to rest just above his elbow. "It's a kemmering-day verse. They speak it to youths, upon their first trips to the houses. And... if we are to speak technically...""Oh." Genly tilts his head, registering-- and then answers, blithely, "Technically, wehavecrossed a great deal of ice."





	of crossing

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished this book for the first time a few days ago, and was completely blown away-- and, like you might guess, totally heartbroken THANKS A LOT MS LE GUIN. I wanted something soft to heal my heart and maybe yours. :') The verse Estraven references is from Coming of Age in Karhide.

_You cross earth now. _

_You cross water now. _

_You cross the Ice now... _

"Therem?" murmurs Genly in the dark. "You were saying something?"

Therem, much too warm and groggy because of it, stirs. "Mm. Was I?"

Genly props himself up on his elbows, squinting across the bed. "That, or you'd made use of mindspeech while half-dreaming."

"Ah."

"It's not impossible-- it's rather common, in fact, amongst learners. What was it? A poem about the Gobrin?"

One of the sheets slips off their body as they shift away. Genly blinks at them, his strange, too-narrow alien's eyes gentle and attentive, visible even through the faint light spilling though the window. This is not the first time that they have shared a bed since stepping off the ice sheet, but it is the first time-- not in the safety of their tent with the glowing-hot Chabe-stove at their backs, but on the hospitality of strangers at the border-- that they would grow bold enough to touch, a mere two rapidly-advancing days away from Therem's next kemmer.

"It sounded," Genly yawns, "very pretty, in your voice."

_Two days or less_, they think. A thin smile curls Therem's lip. "It was a passing thought. A crude one. I'm not sure why I remembered it at all."

"Therem, how many times must I waive shifgrethor I don't have?"

They nudge his leg with a swift foot.

"Ow."

"Fine. Shall I finish the verse?"

"Please."

In words, not thoughts, Therem continues, their gaze meeting Genly's, unbroken.

_"Together we have crossed the Ice. _

_Together we come into the Hearthplace, _

_Into life, bringing life! _

_In the act of creation, praise!"_

Genly's quiet as he mulls the words over: ever the Envoy, no doubt, storing the words away somewhere secure in the back of his mind.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

Their hand slides down Genly's shoulder and upper arm, coming to rest just above his elbow. "It's a kemmering-day verse. They speak it to youths, upon their first trips to the houses. And... if we are to speak technically..."

"Oh." Genly tilts his head, registering-- and then answers, blithely, "Technically, we _have_ crossed a great deal of ice."

Therem raises a brow. "Genry, are you being coy or obtuse? I must confess that I can never tell the two apart with certainty."

"The former, for once," he replies with soft laughter, running his fingers through the silken black of their hair.

Assuaged, Therem smiles back, and reaches up to hold his hand in their own.

\---

Therem is in full kemmer, come the early morning. Genly, wide-eyed and foolish with his adoration, is allowed to touch them at last. Yet the day is already breaking. Much as they would both love to spend the day together in bed, they've only a precious hour or two before their hosts serve breakfast, and after that a half-day's journey to the next border town.

And so it is that Genly persuades them to go first. _He_ is in permanent kemmer, after all, and can stand to wait another several hours. Reluctantly, Therem concedes: if only because they're already flushed red, both sexes already wanting-- wet heat between their thighs; tight nerves stiffening with every errant brush against the fabric of their nightshirt. He is enthusiastic, but restrained. Therem cannot help but see the scientist in him, even amidst the reverent kisses that send shivers up their spine: he glances up, every now and again, expression _far_ too meek to belong to the first Terran to caress a Gethenian in kemmer with those broad, brown hands. Therem laughs at him-- "_Genry_," they moan, interrupted, as he takes their nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he sucks.

He looks, all in all, pleased with himself. His head pops back up, pressing a kiss to the corner of Therem's lip.

"I wish there were more time."

Therem cranes their neck up to reach him, taking Genly's mouth without hesitation.

"Oh," Genly eventually breathes, and then he answers, blithely, "well, perhaps we can wait to leave, maybe just for another day?"

"No."

"Two days?"

"_No,_ Genry," but it belies the easy, dazed grin on their face.

It's Genly's turn to concede. He's slow, kissing a line down Therem's chest and stomach; at last, he pulls their nightshirt away, pressing his lips to the soft, yielding flesh of Therem's inner thigh.

"Together," he murmurs, "we come into the Hearthplace."

"Praise, then," Therem answers, gripping the tight, dark curls of Genly's hair, "to creation, unfinished."

"That isn't how it went."

"Genry," they breathe, "the time. Please hurry."

Assuaged, Genly smiles up at them, but only for a moment. He reaches up for them as his eyes glance back downwards, ready to hold his hand in their own.


End file.
